


Dear Dad,

by WingcommanderArthurShappey



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingcommanderArthurShappey/pseuds/WingcommanderArthurShappey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first drawer of Arthur's desk is heavy with unsent letters and postcards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Dad,

Dear Dad,

I know you didn’t answer my last letter, and that’s not much of a surprise, really, because come to think of it, that’s probably because I’ve never sent it.

Yeah, I just checked, and it’s still in the drawer of my desk, right on top of those post cards I sent you when you left and Mum got Gertie off you and we went to Bali and Cairo and Crete without you. Those obviously never reached you, either, because back then, I forgot that you didn’t live with us anymore, so I sent them to our address and they were waiting for me when we came back home. I was a bit sad you never got them then, but after a bit, I thought that maybe it was for the best, because maybe, you didn’t even want to know about us having fun without you, especially ‘cause I think you were still a bit cross about Mum getting to keep Gertie in the divorce.

I sent you birthday letters, too, but you probably didn’t get those, because you never answered, or maybe you didn’t **want** to answer and to be honest, I know I never gave you much to reply to, because all the letters just said “Dear dad, happy birthday”, and maybe you didn’t want to spend any money on writing a card that said “dear son, thank you.”

Anyway, just by looking at this letter, I know I’m not going to send this one, either, because you probably wouldn’t even read it and I’d not be able to stop thinking about it and wondering if you ever got it and what you think about me now, about the things I wrote, and if you think I’m stupid. For example, when I wrote that we went to Cairo and Crete and Bali just then, I knew that’d make you think I didn’t know that Cairo and Crete are cities, whereas Bali’s an island, and you’d roll your eyes and wish I was there so you could give me that look that said you can’t believe someone as clever as you and Mum made someone as stupid as me. I’m not stupid, though, Dad. I know a lot of things, but sometimes I forget stuff, for example how that town in Bali was called, and the post card just says “Bali”, and I didn’t want to ask Mum, so I wrote Bali, even though I knew what you’d think about that.

You’re never going to read this letter, anyway, so that’s okay. Just writing everything down makes me feel a bit better.

I wish I could say I didn’t care what you think about me anymore, but I kinda know I always will. If I really didn’t care, I wouldn’t have been worried about you thinking that I don’t know that Bali’s an island. But, even though I still care, even though I think I’m always going to be sad you were never really proud of me, I think - yeah, a lot of things are going to be much better now.

I’m not going to tell you too much about it, don’t worry, I just think you should know that I’ve found someone who likes me for who I am, as a person and even as a steward, someone who plays Crazy Golf and charades and Balloon Cup with me, and not because he’s afraid Mum’ll stop liking him if he doesn’t.

And - Dad - I know you were never too keen on doing things like taking me to the zoo or the airport, but you don’t have to worry about that anymore, because someone else is doing all those things for you now. I’d still like to be friends with you, but I don’t think it’s possible and… maybe it’s better that way.

You know what, I think I **might** send this letter to you, after all. Just to let you know that I’ll always think of you as my father, but… that I… sort of realised you were never really my dad. I do have a dad now, and he’s brilliant. Having a dad feels brilliant.

Oh, and also. Don’t come to visit us. Mum and I don’t want to see you, and I think Herc is pretty angry at you.

I drew a picture of Snoopadoop for you, because our camera broke and I know you haven’t seen her in ages. We bought her a new collar, as you can see in the picture. It’s lovely.

Douglas and Martin said to say hello when I told them I was going to write you a letter.  
I don’t know what’s so funny about it, but they seemed pretty amused. Douglas said my gin saved your day **and** your fingers, which is brilliant.

You’re welcome.

Okay, I think that’s it, for now. You don’t have to answer me.  
I know you’re not going to, anyway.  
Arthur


End file.
